


About That Date

by andonlythinkofme



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, mentions of rape in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6215569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andonlythinkofme/pseuds/andonlythinkofme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Damen tentatively brushed his fingers against the back of Laurent’s hand, “about that date.”</p><p> </p><p>Coffee Shop AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	About That Date

**Author's Note:**

> This work has really been edited soooo....please excuse minor mistakes!

There's not really much to it. Damen’s dark green saab nosed into traffic again, merging onto the main street that went through the heart of town. He knew when he took this job that the community college was in a small town, but god, he’s thought there would atleast be a Target. Having lived in a large city his whole life, the next five years stretching out before him in this tiny town sounded like hell. If he didn’t have so much student debt, he would still be in Chicago with his father and half-brother. 

Damen turned into the parking lot of his apartment complex and parked his car. He lowered his head onto the steering wheel and let out a deep breath. He got a job as a professor, he got an apartment without any rats, he bought a used car that didn’t cost him an arm and a leg, and yet, Damen felt like he was trapped. 

“It’s just five years. Five years and I’m outta here,” he whispered to himself. With a few more calming breaths, Damen calmly got out of his car and went into his ground floor apartment. 

 

 

Another drawback to living in a small town, no Starbucks. If Damen didn’t get some caffeine in him within the next twenty minutes he was gonna die. Before leaving his apartment Damen had Googled any and all coffee shops in the area and the most popular one was, luckily, three blocks away from the college campus. Damen parked his saab in the teacher’s lot and walked towards the shop, following the GPS on his phone. 

On Yelp, the coffee shop was given a 4.5 out of 5 stars with a ton of comments on how delicious the coffee was and how great the atmosphere was. With all that in the back of his mind, when Damen walked up to the front of Vere, he was not expecting the mad crush of people spilling out onto the sidewalk. Glancing down at his phone, Damen could see that he only had fifteen minutes before he needed to meet with a representative of the college prior to his first class. Never in his previous life would Damen have waited in such a long line but weariness was weighing down his arms. 

The front of Vere was ornate, large mosaic windows embeded into dark grey stone. It almost looked like a castle. From what Damen could see of the inside, it looked just as posh. It looked like rows upon rows of large plush couches and, he blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, honest to god waiters, weaving in between  customers. The line in front of him wasn’t even moving. He glanced back at his phone, five minutes until his meeting. Damen honestly felt like crying. He stepped out of line and the space he left behind was instantly filed. Feeling like the next twenty-four hours was going to suck, Damen walked back to Ravenel Community College. 

 

 

“Hey! You the new History guy?” A large man dressed in a pale blue button down and black slacks called out to Damen when he entered the office. The man’s face was taken up by a shaggy black beard, obscuring his mouth behind the hair. Damen liked him immediately.

“Yeah, you Mr. Delpha?” Damen reached forward to shake the man’s hand.

“Call me Nikandros. We’re cutting it a little short so I’ll show you around. Want some coffee?” Nikandros pointed at an old Mr. Coffee perched haphazardly at the very edge of the secretary’s desk. At that moment, Damen would have drank cold coffee from cup that had been sitting in a ditch overnight. Seeing the blind need in Damen’s eye, Nikandros laughed and stopped so that he could get a cup. Damen moaned with the first sip.

“Okay,” he said in between long drags from the cup, “I’m ready for the day.” 

“There aren't a lot of coffee places around here if you need that stuff to survive,” Nikandros said as he led Damen out into the hallway.

“I tried Vere, or, I was going to try Vere this morning, but man, the line was out the door. I’ve never seen something like that before!” Nikandros nodded sagely.

“Vere isn’t worth the $7 it costs to get a cup. This is the English hall by the way, and over there is math. You’re much better off driving the extra five minutes and going to Acquitart. Over there are the Science labs.” The two hustled up a flight of stairs to the second floor.

“Acquitart?” Damen asked.

“Yeah, small place in a rinky dink strip mall but yo, it’s so good and barely anyone goes there. Just ignore the guy that owns it.”

“What does that mean?” Nikandros shrugged his large shoulder at the question.

“It’s just that the guy, names like, Laurens or something, he’s kind of an asshole. Makes some great shit, but he’s like a pit viper. Still way worth it when compared to Vere. Heres your classroom.” Nikandros stopped them at a door that looked like all the others. Damen’s relaxed, caffeine induced calm, immediately left him. He’d been so focused on the drawbacks of living here and the lack of city-amenities that Damen forgot to worry about actually teaching his first class. Realistically, he knew it was the first day of the semester and that most of the student’s wouldn't expect more than a syllabus overview. But still, wow, his first class as a professor. Nikandros gripped his shoulder reassuringly. 

“You’ll be fine. And if anything goes wrong, just remember it's a 9am class, no one is awake anyway.” A surprised laugh erupted from Damen. 

“Thanks, man.”

The next morning, bright and early, Damen drove out to Acquitart. Unlike Vere, this place wasn’t close enough to walk to from campus but Damen saw no line at the door so it was already a vast improvement. The strip mall resembled almost all the other buildings in town, low, colorless, and bleak. Acquitart had a little sign showing what it was, differentiating it from the gaming store beside it. Not wanting to risk being late, Damen arrived with thirty minutes to spare. The parking lot was almost completely empty. 

In deference to the chill in the air, Damen buttoned up his brown cardigan and walked over to the shop. Inside was the standard tables and chairs of almost every other coffee shop Damen had ever been in. It surprised him that there were a few people there already, huddled over cups of various sizes. Soft, acoustic music played from hidden speakers. While the walls, furniture, and floor where all white, the ceiling was painted a rich royal blue. Damen loved it. 

Behind the counter at the back of the establishment stood a man in a blue apron. As Damen walked up, he realized with a jolt like a knife to the stomach, that he’d probably never seen someone so beautiful before in his life. He had an astonishingly lovely face. Bright blue eyes framed by shoulder length yellow hair. The dark blue apron and black clothes underneath it were too harsh for the man’s fair complexion but instead of making the man unattractive, it only added to the striking, eye catching angles of his jaw and the sweep of his lashes.

Damen stood awestruck at the counter for a beat too long. He realized this as the man’s expression became unpleasant. A faint downturn of his lips and a quirk of his aristocratic brow.

“Can I help you?” The tone was arrogant. Even rude. Damen glanced at the man’s nametag which read in plain block letters: Laurent. 

“Ah,” Damen thought, “Laurens indeed.” He looked about the counter at the mean before decided that he’d already spent too much time just staring.

“I’ll just take a black coffee, thanks,” he said as nicely as he could. No matter what the vibe was coming off this guy, Damen had always been raised to be polite no matter what. Despite how nice Damen was trying to be, Laurent scoffed at him.

“Name?” The blonde man asked.

“Excuse me?”

“What’s your name from the cup,  _ sir. _ ” With every word out of this man’s mouth , Damen felt like he was being judged. 

“Damen.” He responded flatly. Laurent nodded and moved off to the machines to pour the cup. Damen didn’t bother to move off as no one else was coming into Acquitart. Damen was entranced by the slim grace of Laurent’s fingers but in the same breath he tried to surprise his attracted to the man. Nikandros was right, this man gave off an air of self-absorption. Laurent place the ceramic mug of coffee before Damen none too gentle then made as if to walk away. 

“Have I, uh, done something?” Damen asked. Laurent didn’t respond immediately. He stared at Damen with an intensity that made him shift awkwardly. Damen could not get a read on this man, it was almost as if his face was made of stone. 

“Black coffee is the vanilla ice cream of the coffee world. It is the most basic thing that you could get,” Laurent’s eyes swept over Damen, assessing him, “although that does seem fitting.”  Instead of being insulted, a large smile broke across Damen’s face. 

“Did you...did you just call me basic?” Damen asked incredulously. He was surprised by the disdain in Laurent’s face but found his comment more humorous than aggravating. Who even says that? Laurent didn’t respond, just began wiping the counter with a rag. This whole exchange happened in only a handful of minutes, but for that time Damen had completely forgotten his situation. With the smile still plastered on his face, Damen took his mug to a table near the counter and switched between drinking and watching Laurent until it was time to go.

When it was time to go, Damen made sure to catch Laurent’s eye. He was definitely coming back. 

 

Every morning for the next two weeks Damen went to Acquitart. The noble part of him wanted to say that he went just for the coffee and calm early morning atmosphere. The honest part of himself could admit that the haughty owner was also a huge draw. Whether it was a snarky comment or a rant on something in the news, Laurent’s acidic personality was strangely heart warming. He was funny  and so smart he could give Damen whiplash with his mental gymnastics. When he spoke to Nikandros in the lounge, the burly man just laughed at him, referring to Laurent as Damen’s, “little friend”. While living in a small town filled Damen with no more joy than it had initially, he felt that with each relationship he formed it became a little easier to get out of bed.

 

  
On the second Saturday of his new life, Damen walked into Acquitart after going on a run through town. He knew that his sweat soaked basketball shorts and wife beater would piss off  the immaculate Laurent which made the idea of going in and getting a coffee that much more appealing. He almost ran into the yellow haired man as Laurent walked out of the establishment. 

“Hey, going on break?” Damen asked, pushing his dark curls out of his face. Laurent’s ice blue eyes tracked the movement but gave nothing away. 

“It’s none of your business,” the yellow haired man stated plainly. After two weeks of Laurent, Damen was not put off by this answer, instead he matched steps with Laurent as he walked towards the parking lot. 

“Oh really? It’s none of my business that my favorite barista is leaving me to drink coffee from the hands of Jord?” Damen quickened his pace so that he could walk backwards and gaze at Laurent’s face. 

“Not that Jord doesn’t make delicious coffee but,  _ he’s no you, _ ” Damen crooned the last part with enough tooth rotting sweetness to put Jesse McCartney to shame. 

“Anything that he will make I’m sure will suffice. You are and astonishingly uncomplicated man. Black coffee is hard to fuck up.” Despite his words, Laurent’s tone was light, no real edge meant to cut Damen. They approached a silver Camry that Damen assumed belonged to the blonde. Even though he’d followed Laurent to the parking lot, he had every intention of leaving the man to go about his business yet, when they reached the car, Laurent hesitated to unlock it as if thinking something over.

“Actually, if you want coffee, maybe you should come with me,” Laurent quipped nonchalantly, twirling his key ring around his index finger.” A fluttering erupted in Damen’s stomach. He thought perhaps the run had altered his mind. Maybe all this was a hallucination. Was Laurent, cool, distant, sour, Laurent really just ask Damen to come with him? This could not be real.

“Where are we going?” He stammered. The skin around Laurent’s eyes squinted, the only tell that Laurent wanted to laugh. 

“To Vere.”

 

The car ride over was silent. They radio played some inane pop single that usually Damen would have sang along to, but now. The drive was roughly five minutes, the Camry weaving in and out of lanes smoothly. They parked across the street. Damen reached for the door but before he could open it, Laurent delicate hand reached out to stop him. Damen jumped in his seat. Seeing Lauren’t fair fingers contrasted with the deep brown of Damen’s arm quickened his heart rate. 

“I have a plan,” Laurent’s words snapped Damen’s eyes up to him. “I need you to go in there and approach a particular woman. She will be slightly shorter than I am. Grey hair, white, her name is Loyse. Tell her that you want a raspberry macchiato. Can you do that?”

“A raspberry macchiato? That sounds disgusting!”

“Don’t worry, you won’t actually get anything like that. You can go ask someone else for your bland black coffee after. Meet me back here in twenty minutes.” Damen stared at this enigmatic man.

“Why?” He asked. Laurent looked away from him, as if considering whether or not to answer.

“I will tell you after. If we’re going to do this we need to do it now. Will you?” Damen considered what he was asking. On the surface it seemed fairly benign, yet it was obvious that something much more was going on. The sweat had cooled on his skin during the drive and all of a sudden he felt itchy, suspicious. However, he’d already came this far and no matter how he looked at it, Damen could not think of anything horrible that could happen from this.

“Alright, but you’ll tell me right after.” Laurent nodded and let go of Damen’s arm. 

 

Just like the first time, Vere had a line out the door, however, because it was the weekend Damen only waited a few minutes. Entering the coffee shop was surreal. After spending so much time in the simple elegance of Acquitart, the overt opulence of Vere was distracting, off putting. The music was pounding and every corner there was a person. It was difficult to navigate the crush of people with such a large body. Luckily, because he was so tall, Damen could see over most people. He scanned the crowed until he saw someone that matched the description that Laurent gave him. The middle aged woman was cleaning up the mess at an empty table, the sleeves of her waitress uniform rolled up to her elbows. Damen made his way over in a flurry of “pardon” and “excuse me”. 

“Loyse?” He inquired once he was in hearing range. The woman inclined her head towards him but did not turn.

“I’m a little busy sir,” she said politely, “if you would like to order, there should be someone standing behind the counter.” Stealing himself to ignore her words and his ingrained need to be polite himself, Damen pushed forward.

“Can I, uh, can i have a raspberry macchiato?” The change was immediate. Loyse straightened up and leveled Damen with an inquisitive gaze. Damen wasn’t sure what more he needed to do. Laurent hadn’t given him and further instructions. Loyse nodded her head in understanding and promptly walked away, leaving Damen with a half clean table. Loyse walked up to another waiter, an older man with a stooped frame. She whispered something in his ear and the two walked to what Damen assumed was the back door, slipping out into the alley behind Vere. 

Damen looked around but could not catch another waiters attention. Beside Loyse, the man she spoke to and one other, everyone else that worked at Vere seemed to be in their mid to late teens. They were more interested in talking with their friends than actually serving customers. Everyone seemed to be artfully arranged on the velvet cushions of crimson couches  or lounging against high tables in small, intimate clusters. Feeling horribly out of place, Damen left Vere. He figured arriving at the car a few minutes early wouldn’t matter too much. He leaned against the Camry and thought about his day. All he wanted was a coffee and to talk with Laurent. He caught a flash of yellow in the corner of her eye. Laurent sauntered over, the bright September sunshine making his hair look like spun gold. Damen feared his heart would stop.  

“Get in,” the man ordered. Damen picked his jaw up from the pavement, jumping into the passenger seat as quickly as possible. The set of Laurent’s shoulders were relaxed, his face a little more soft than usual. 

“I take it, whatever you wanted with Loyse and…”

“Paschal.”

“And Paschal went well. Tell me whats up?” Laurent turned the music off. They were speeding back towards Acquitart but Damen paid no mind to that, focusing entirely on Laurent. The man took didn’t respond at first, attention firmly on the road. Before Damen could ask again, he finally spoke up. 

“The man that owns Vere is my uncle.” Damen felt first shock then confusion. Why in the world would Laurent open a coffee shop when he could just work with his uncle? He said as much to the Laurent and watch the man immediately shut off. All the good humour that had previously softened his wiry frame leaked away like water in a broken cup. Damen began to back track. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t assume anything! I jus-”

“It’s nothing,” Laurent interrupted, running a distracted hand through his blonde locks, “my uncle and I had a...falling out of sorts.” Conversation ended there, leaving a sour taste in Damen’s mouth. For all that Laurent had said there seemed to be a million things that weren’t said. When they parked in front of Acquitart there was a pause between them, neither one willing to leave the car just yet. 

“Did you get your coffee?” Laurent finally asked, blue eyes glancing at Damen subtlely.

“I think I’ll pass. My hearts already beating fast. Add caffeine and I might have a heart attack.” Another pause.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later?” The lilt at the end of his sentence made Laurent seem unsure, questioning. Damen wanted to scoff at him. He needed some to time to process what had happened but Laurent was crazy if he thought this would scare Damen off. Far from it. Damen had never been so completely entrance by someone before. The desire to understand Laurent ran thick within him. So vibrant and strong that it scared him. For that reason he knew he needed to disengage for today no matter how his chest ached at the thought. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Damen stated firmly, half turning in his seat to face Laurent directly. The now familiar gaze searched his face for any hint of a lie before Laurent nodded, satisfied with what he had found in Damen’s all to open visage. 

“Tomorrow,” and Laurent got out.

 

The apartment was nothing to write home about but it suited Damen well enough. It was on the ground floor so there were sliding glass doors in the open living room and attached kitchenette. Off the main hallway near the front door was the only bathroom which also connected to the only bedroom. It was small, way smaller than the home he’d shared with his father and half-brother. That night as he scrolled through social media and daydreamed, Damen realized that he hadn’t spoken to his father in some time. It was half past eight so surely his dad would still be awake. Damen tabbed over to the phone app and called his dad. On the fifth ring the line picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey! It’s Damen.” Theomedes laughed, his voice popping and crackling down the line. 

“I know, I can see that on the phone. What are you calling for?”

“Nothing much, I just wanted to catch up. We haven’t spoken in awhile.” 

The two men talked of all manner of things ranging from the weather to the latest wrestling matches and how the life of a community college History professor was treating  Damen. Surprisingly, Damen did not have many negative things to say. He was chockful of stories about Nikandros and another professor Makedon. He told his father about Laurent and Jord and Orlant at Acquitart. As the clock was reaching a quarter to ten and the conversation was winding down Damen broached the subject of his half brother.

“How is Kastor?” The line went silent. The small hairs at the nape of Damen’s neck stood on end.

“Dad? Is something wrong? Is Kastor okay?” Another significant pause. Damen pulled the phone away from his face to make sure the call was still connected. 

“Damen, son, I must tell you something but I am not sure how you will react.”

“Well now you’re scaring me!”

“It’s just that...how to put this? That girl you were dating last year, Jokaste. She’s pregnant.” Damen waited for the other shoe to drop but nothing else was said. 

“What does that have to do with Kastor?” Theomedes, sighed loudly. 

“The child  _ is _ Kastors. Jokaste is carrying your niece or nephew. I had though Kastor would have told you himself by now but apparently not.” 

Damen felt like he was floating. In another life Jokaste had been his. She was wickedly sharp, clinical in her affection yet soft to the touch. Had Damen not been so set on being a teacher perhaps they would have stayed together. Perhaps in another life she would be carrying his child. Numb acceptance sank heavy in his stomach. She was not his but Damen had not considered she would move on to his brother of all people. 

“I, uh, thanks for telling me, Dad. I gotta go.” He hung up quickly, not allowing his father to say anything else. The darkness of his bedroom gave him peace. He lay on his soft but empty bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking. 

“Kaster is going to be a father. He is having a child with Jokaste,” Damen said aloud. He felt a dull ache in his chest, a pain for the life he could have had, but Damen was surprised by the lack of intensity to his feelings. The sadness his felt was not all encompassing. It was soft like overripe fruit. Tender to the touch. Damen examined the pain. He ran his fingers over it and pressed. He missed Jokaste, missed her soft body, her biting words. He felt betrayal towards his brother for such blatant disregard for Damen’s feelings, but beyond that, not much. Maybe, just maybe, Damen was changing with the separation. It was had to be acutely upset about things happening several states over. Slowly his thoughts wandered over to Laurent yet again.

Laurent would probably laugh at Damen. Tell him that betrayal in a fact of life and he should be happy that it had happened after he had broken up with Jokaste and not during. A small chuckle escaped him. Living in a small town might not be all that bad. 

 

As promised, Damen drove to Acquitart the next morning. It was a cloudy Sunday and the air hung heavy with moisture. In deference to the impending storm, Damen wore a green parka and black rainboots. Flipping up the hood, he hustled into Acquitart at a clipped pace. Inside were the usual people. Friendly faces that had endeared themselves to Damen over the weeks. Laurent was nowhere to be seen so he approached Orlant, another barista that worked part-time. 

“Hey, Damen! Black coffee?” Orlant asked yet moved to complete the order before Damen even responded.”

“Yeah thanks, man.” The white ceramic mug landed on the counter in front of Damen promptly. Orlant was pleasant enough. A joking disposition within a body made strong from constant exercise. Damen tried to make himself present in the conversation yet his eyes could do nothing but search the establishment, yearning to see a certain man. 

“Hello, sir-” The bell at the front door tinkled and Orlant turned in greeting before pausing, his strong face freezing. Damen turned as well to see who had come in. The man standing there was striking. An impressive figure in a black suit. A healthy, trimmed beard giving his otherwise plain face an authoritative air. 

“Hello,” the man said pleasantly, “is my nephew here?”

“Ah, Laurent’s uncle,” Damen thought. There was not much physical similarity between the two men yet, the aura about them, strong as stone, echoed to each other. Behind the counter the door that led to the back offices and store rooms opened, revealing Laurent to the room. His standard black slacks and tee-shirt clung to his slim figure, the blue apron absent. Laurent must have heard his uncle come in for he didn’t appear surprised that the owner of Vere was standing there. 

“Uncle,” Laurent said placidly. 

“Laurent, dear nephew, after all these months you finally come to Vere and didn’t bother to see me.” Laurent shuffled forward. Damen could not discern how the blonde was feeling but considering what he had been told yesterday, Damen was sure this meeting was uncomfortable for his friend. 

“I must have missed you. I didn’t stay over long.” A staring contest began between uncle and nephew, neither willing to give ground. Damen and Orlant stood silently in the middle, the coffee in Damen’s mug growing cold.

Finally, the uncle tapped his left foot on the ground, scuffing the white washed wood. 

“I must return, Vere is so busy at this time, brunch and all.” The man cast a critical eye at the sparsely populated tables about the room, “ you seem busy enough here.”

Laurent inclined his head with a self-satisfied twist to his lips. His uncle left then, disappearing into the gloom outside. Damen released a breath he had not known he was holding. Orlant jumped back into action. He began cleaning the counter and lining up the mugs, anything to keep his hands busy. Slowly, drawn forward, Damen approached Laurent who stood frozen, still staring at the door.

“Are you, uh, okay?” Damen’s soft words broke Laurent’s trance.

“He doesn’t know!”

“What?” Laurent gleefully clasped his hands together. Like a stab to the heart, Damen realized that this was the first time he’d truly seen Laurent smile. 

“Can’t you see,” Laurent leaned towards Damen in excitement, “ he’s not sure. He knows I was there, probably saw my car or something, but he’s not sure why I was there or what I did. He came here because he wanted me to give something away. And,” Laurent’s impossible smile grew larger, showing more teeth, “he doesn’t know about you. He didn’t even look at you.” Damen could not help but be swept up in the joy of Laurent’s words despite not truly understanding the meaning behind them. 

“Is this a game or something?” He inquired. 

“Or something. No, this is more like a war!” Laurent turned back to his office.

“I have to go. Enjoy your coffee. Get another one on me too as thanks for your help.” With that, Laurent left him. Orlant whistled lowly. 

“You are so fucked,” he chuckled at the blissed out expression painted on Damen’s face.

 

 

 

 

The morning started on a sour note. The heater in the apartment complex crapped out during the night leaving Damen in laying in a puddle of sweat, waiting for the sun to rise. On top of that, he’d looked over the syllabus and realized that he’d forgotten to assign the essay on World War Two economic repercussions for his freshman class. Could a Monday get any worse? He could feel the acute headache building behind his eyes as he drove his saab to Acquitart. 

Surprisingly, there was a small crowd huddled in front of the door. Damen could recognize Orlant and Jord amongst the group so when he approached he made a beeline for them. Once close enough, Damen saw what was going on. Across the door was long yellow hazard tape preventing people from entering. 

“What’s going on?” Damen interrupted the whispered conversation between Jord and Orlant. 

“We’ve been shut down by the Health Department. Apparently someone told them we have a bug problem. Laurent said we’d be closed for the next three days. I’ll bet anything we have the Regent to blame.”

“Regent?”

“Laurent’s uncle. He’s kinda known as the Regent around here ‘cause he’s such an authoritative dick.” Orlant nodded sagely in agreement. 

His headache throbbed painfully. At this moment Damen would happily strangle the Regent if it meant opening Acquitart and getting some coffee. He rubbed at his temple.

“Is Laurent upset?”

“No, actually he sounded pretty happy. I don’t know, it was strange.” Jord replied. There was nothing much for Damen to do. He said his goodbyes and drove to Ravenel. When he entered the teacher’s lounge, he was greeted by Nikandros.

“Man, you look rough. You okay?” All Damen could do was half-heartedly shrug. This was shaping up to be a bad day. 

 

 

The days dragged by in monotony. Damen worked out, went to teach, hung out with Nikandros and Makedon, and longed to see Laurent. His fervent wish came to fruition on Thursday night. Damen had decided that day to go to the bookstore in town, anything to get him out of his still overly cold apartment. He was perusing the Biography section when a short woman passed by the opening of the aisle. Loyse. A few seconds later, miraculously, Laurent followed.  Damen’s chest tightened. 

“Laurent, man how are you?” Damen called out, rushing to catch up to the blonde. Blue eyes widened in surprise. Damen’s eyes relearned the contours of Laurent’s face.  

“Damen, you sound like a barbarian yelling like that.” Pink lips curling around the words. The two of them moved over so that they were not blocking the main path through the small store. Laurent leaned casually against the wooden bookcase, limbs arranged with ease. 

“How have you been?” Damen asked.

“Fine, you?” 

“Pretty good. I’ve been missing you-um-your coffee something fierce.” If Laurent noticed Damen’s slip up, he didn’t react to it. 

“Do you, maybe have some time,” Laurent implored with his eyes and words, “I still owe you a drink for helping me before.”  Damen thought maybe in this moment he could fly. 

“It’s a little late for coffee, maybe a beer? I think there's a bar two over.” Laurent led the way to a hole in the wall called Ios. They sat at the bar together a just talked. Damen told Laurent about his old life in Chicago, about his friends and Jokaste. Laurent, as Damen had thought, showed no sympathy over the news of Jokaste and Kastor. 

“From everything you’ve told me about her you’re lucky she waited until after you’d broken up.” Damen just laughed. The drank, one, two, three beers together, legs and arms brushes all the while. Fortified by the alcohol, Damen felt comfortable asking after Laurent in a way he hadn’t before. 

“Tell me about your uncle. All this has happened but I’m not sure why. I feel like there is something I’m missing.” Laurent’s fingers tightened around his glass, white knuckled tension. He took a few shallow breaths to calm himself. Damen watched the flow of emotions in the beer heavy figure. He settled on open finally. 

“I’ll talk about it. You’ve been, interesting and...supportive in a way.  But I’d rather get it all out in one go so no questions, okay?” Damen mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. 

“My parents died when I was ten. I was very close to my mother so it was-difficult. Luckily, my brother was older so I lived with him. Auguste, my brother, was...everything. I really mean that. I used to follow him around he was so, big. Bigger than life I think.” Laurent took a deep gulp from his beer. 

“When I was thirteen, Auguste died as well. Car crash. It was quick. That’s when I moved in with my uncle. He...he was fine at first. Very comforting. But, over time it became a bit much. He took his comforting too, too far.” Laurent stared deep into Damen’s brown eyes. Perspiration dampened the fine hair at his scalp. 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” And Damen did. He did and it made him sick.

“I got out of there as soon as I could. Eighteen and I took off running. But, it’s not enough to just leave him. I want him to suffer. I want him to know I’m doing better than him. No, in spite of him.” Damen wished to reach out and touch Laurent though in light of what he’d been told he rethought that. 

“Can I talk now?” Damen hedged. The corner of Laurent’s lips quirked up. 

“Yes.”

“What do we need to do?”

“We?” Laurent scrunched his brows in confusion. 

“Yes, ‘we’! You said this is a war so what it our next move? How do we win this?” It was Laurent that finally reached for Damen. He touched Damen’s brown wrist, turning it so he could look at the watch Damen had put on that morning. It read 11:47 pm. They’d been there longer than Damen had thought. 

“If you are willing, there is something we can do.”

“Now?”

“Now.” Damen weighed the possibilities in his head. His Friday classes started early however it was long overdue for a movie day. A few more hours with Laurent would not be the worst thing he could do. The bookstore was five or so blocks away from Ravenel so he could probably leave the Saab in the lot overnight. Getting home would be an issue but surely Laurent would have a plan for that too. The anger burning through Damen’s veins directed towards the Regent demanded to be expressed.

“Let’s do it!”

 

“Hold it tighter!”

“I go it don’t worry!” Damen never would have thought when he first moved here that he would be helping a man like Laurent break into a cafe. Damen hoisted the slim man higher so that he could reach the last lock of the giant back door. Laurent shoved a credit card in between the door and the frame, jiggling it to move the fragile lock open. When they had first arrive, Laurent had ensured Damen that all the locks would be open. Damen felt that it had something to do with Laurent’s meetings with Loyse and Paschal. Unfortunately, one lock at the very top  of the large door was still safely fastened. 

“There’s always something,” Laurent had grumbled before ordering Damen to lift him up so that he could see the lock better. That’s how Damen found himself with his face planted in the small of Laurent’s back, trembling, alcohol lazy arms holding the blonde by his knees. With a few shoves and a click the lock gave. Damen let him down. 

“We have to be quite so Govart won’t wake up.” Laurent whispered in Damen’s ear.

“Who?”

“Uncle’s pit bull Govart. He watches the premises overnight but god know’s he’s a lazy fucking dog. We stay quite and it should be fine.” 

Hunching his large frame down, Damen duck walked after Laurent into Vere. To the immediate right of them was a metal door that presumably led to the freezers. Laurent bypassed that and kept go towards a wooden door with frosted glass in the center. 

“Keep watch here,” Laurent murmured. From his vantage point Damen could see down the narrow hallway to the swinging wood door that led to the cafe proper. There was a single emergency light above them illuminating everything. 

“This should be open as well.” Laurent tested the office door. It creaked open to reveal a single oak desk and chair in the center of the room. File cabinets lined the wall. 

“Who unlocked all these doors? And why isn’t there an alarm system? Come to think of it, what are we even looking for?”

“Hush,” Laurent waved a flippant hand, “let me work.” He slinked over to the desk and began to jimmy the lock. Damen heard him ruffling papers. Laurent pulled out his cell phone and snapped some pictures of the documents. Once done, her crawled back to Damen.

“Let’s get out of here,” Damen smiled, breathless with the excitement of their illicit actions. His expression was twinned on Laurent’s face. Blue eyes wide with good humour. 

“I may have lied,” said Laurent, “this is a war, and a game. A game I like to play.” With the toe of his boot Laurent deliberately kicked the door frame. From inside cafe there was a startled bark. It was a chase. Damen and Laurent sprinted down the hallway. They pushed and hurdled towards the back door, getting out and slamming it closed before a gruesome black dog, Govart,  could jump on them. They laughed exuberantly, open and free. Their voices rising above the barking on the other side of the door. Damen felt helpless in the face of Laurent, the dizzying edges of his emotions holding him captive. Laurent must have felt the shift in his companion for the laughter on his lips slowly dies. 

The touch Damen placed on Laurent;s jaw was gentle, his thumb grazing the blonde’s cheekbone. Laurent’s usually stoney, strong body relaxed in increments, allowing the fingers to remain. Slowly Damen leaned forward, giving Laurent time to decide. Slowly, slowly, slowly, Damen kissed Laurent. The first kiss was soft, more air than warmth. The next was firmer, and the next and the next. With a moan, laurent pressed up into Damen’s larger body. 

They broke apart when from the other side of the door Govart rammed into the wall. Breathless, they stared across the endless space between them.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Laurent could barely get the words out for breathing.

“Laure-”

“No, Damen, we...forget it, okay?” Damen tried to reach for him. Tried to bring him back into the circle of his arms, however Laurent was too fast. He was there then gone. Out the alley and away, leaving Damen achingly alone.

 

 

Damen spent the night in his car, sleeping under a discarded hoodie in the back seat. We woke with the sun and thought back to the night’s event through sober eyes. And felt angry. Laurent had trusted him. Had confided in him. And what did Damen do with that confidence? He’d violated Laurent’s personal space. Damen ran rough hands over his face. The best course of action would be to give Laurent space, then go apologize. Hopefully the blonde would be in a forgiving mood. As to the very much illegal acts they had committed last night, Damen preferred not to think on those. He feared that the guilt would be etched on his face, that every single person he passed would know that it had been him. For all this, Damen decided to skip going to Acquitart even though it should have reopened by know. Instead he drove to Ravenel Community College. 

Damen passed time hanging out with Nikandros and playing movies for his classes. The clock taunted him every time he looked at his watch. He felt like ripping his eyes out during his office hours as he explained to a sophomore that no, there was no possible way that printing more money could have hypothetically worked in post World War Two Germany no matter how you crunched the numbers. By four o’clock Damen not only desperately wanted to see Laurent, he also desperately needed coffee. 

It was a relief to see the obnoxious hazard tape gone from the doors of Acquitart. When he walked in, the place was practically empty save for an elderly woman seated by the window. Orlant, Jord, and Laurent stood in a tight circle in front of the counter. Their conversation stopped when Damen entered. 

“Hey, man!” Jord called to him, “I’ll get you a coffee! You’ve really saved our asses!” Damen cast his confused glance to Laurent, seeking an answer for Jord’s statement. laurent gave nothing away.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” he shakily replied. 

“Put it in a travel cup,” Laurent ordered Jord. He then turned to Damen, “We have business to attend to.”

 

 

It felt like deja vu to be sitting yet again in Laurent’s Camry headed towards god knows where. Damen had accepted Laurent’s invitation without complaint because he thought being alone with the man would give him an opportunity to apologize and yet here he sat with nothing to say. The words lodged in his throat. The car stopped at a red light in an unfamiliar part of town. 

“Out with it,” Laurent's firm voice cut him. 

“What?” Damen was lucky he did not spill his coffee when he jumped in his seat.

“I can feel the tension from here. If you have something to say just say it. I know that you’re a good guy. Breaking into Vere probably isn’t sitting right with you. I get that, but I’m not going to apologize.” The car moved forward with the light change. 

“That’s not what’s upsetting to me. No I, uh, I’m upset with myself.”

“Because you got swept up in my plan?”

“No! Just let me talk. I...you told me things last night that were obviously painful. Things that you probably wouldn’t have said sober.” Laurent’s shoulders stiffened noticeably. Damen knew then that they were on the same page. 

“You trusted me and I took advantage of the situation. And I’m… I am sorry for that.” Silence. They drove without looking at each other nevertheless Damen could feel Laurent beside him like a flame. 

“Did I seem unwilling? When you kissed me?” Laurent asked at last.

“Well, you did run away.”

“Yes. I guess that would give you the wrong idea.” Surprisingly, Laurent said this with a laugh. He didn’t seem upset at Damen at all.

“Well let me assuage your fears. My leaving had more to do with me than you. Had you kissed me without my consent rest assured you’d be sporting a black eye right now.” Laurent fidgeted in his seat, cluing Damen in that what was to be said next would be of utmost importance. 

“It felt good, to kiss you. Good and scary, I felt that all I could do was run. But, really it should be me apologizing. I did not think on how you would see my actions.” Damen rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans. This by far felt more intimate than kissing Laurent had.

“Let’s forgive each other,” he hedged. Laurent’s pink lips stretched in a small smile and he nodded.

They car parked in front of a newspaper building. At this point, Damen was used to being in the dark. He almost expected to be left by the car again, but this time Laurent urged him out. They walked to the side of the the building to a small area with a back door and a little wooden table, most likely a place for employees to have a smoke break. 

“You spend a lot of time in alleys,” Damen joked.

“I guess I do, I wonder what that says about me,” Laurent winked at Damen as the door opened. A young man, probably eighteen stepped out. He had short curly nut brown hair. His face was fair,  though not as strikingly pale as Laurent’s, with dark blue eyes looking them up and down. The young man was dressed fashionably and held himself with contempt. Damen wondered what this boy could have to do with Laurent and the Regent. 

“Hello, Nicaise. How is the life of an unpaid intern treating you?”

“Fuck off,” the young man shot back. Despite the words, Damen felt that the two were not truly enemies. They seemed almost fraternal. Laurent proved this by his next words.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I have other ways if you would rather back out.”

“Drop it, old man,” Nicaise tossed his hair to the side and reached out and expectant hand. Laurent reached into his black slacks and pulled out a SIM card. 

“Make sure you destroy this as soon as you’re done. I don’t want anything of this leading back to you,” Laurent implored him as he handed over the item. 

“Are you sure this will work? It will take a lot to topple him.” Damen inferred that the ‘him’ must be the Regent. He would have to ask Laurent later how Nicaise was connected to that man. 

“Do my plans ever not work?” Laurent arched an elegant brow. Nicaise fought back a smile. 

“Get out of here,” he waved a dismissive hand at them, “people will be leaving soon and you don’t want to be caught.” Laurent nodded, thanked Nicaise, and led the way back to his car. They talked about inane things on the drive back to Acquitart. Damen’s classes. Laurent’s love of horse, something Damen never would have guessed. In between laughing at Laurent’s impression of ponies, Damen asked if Laurent wanted to go out again.

“Sure,” the blonde said quickly, open, “but no more bars. I usually don’t drink anyway, last night was an aberration. Tomorrow?” Damen agreed and the plan was set. 

 

Not wanting to appear  _ too  _ desperate, Damen decided to skip Acquitart for his morning coffee. He instead went for a jog. The strain on his muscles felt good, a nice break from all the tension he had felt himself carrying as of late. Damen usually left his cell phone at home when he ran so that he could focus. His father had often ranted loudly about the dangers of being without  a phone for so long. Still, Damen could not break himself of the habit. So it didn’t surprise Damen when he saw several notifications lighting up the screen when he returned. He grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat off his face and unlocked his phone. 

There were six messages from Nikandros. The first two were just exclamation points. The next three were different variations of “Damen text me!”. Finally, the sixth came with a link. It lead to the local newspaper’s webpage. Damen’s eyes widened as he read. It said that the Regent, the longtime owner of Vere which he took over after his brother's death, was arrested early that morning. Damen scrolled down to read further. It read:

“Based on documents found on Vere’s premises it has been ascertained that the owner of Vere has been paying members of the Health Department to shut down any and all rival cafes in the area, the most recent being Acquitart. Employees of the establishment, who will remain anonymous, have given statements that Vere does not provide vacation days, sick days, or maternity leave for any employees.”

Damen thought of Loyse and Paschal. He thought of Laurent ruffling through papers and Nicaise flipping his hair. The desire to see Laurent welled up within him. Damen grabbed his wallet and keys and bounded out the door. 

 

  
Acquitart was busier than Damen had ever seen. He could see through the windows that every table was full. Clusters of people loitered around the storefront. Damen elbowed his way in. After going to Acquitart so frequently he felt no need to wait in any line. Orlant and Jord  were busy filling orders. Damen stood on his tip toes. He saw the dear blonde head at a table in the  corner talking to a group of what looked to be high schoolers. Damen weaved his way to Laurent and waited. He didn't have to for long. Laurent caught a glimpse of him in the corner of his eye and quickly disengaged. He looked at Damen with fire in his eyes. 

“You’re late,” he quipped.

“You took him down! You did it!” Damen edged closer, “You won!”

“We won.” The blonde man stepped into Damen’s orbit. It was so so right. 

“So,” Damen tentatively brushed his fingers against the back of Laurent’s hand, “about that date.” 


End file.
